


Pine

by Hannigrammatic



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, First Kiss, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 02:51:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9052318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannigrammatic/pseuds/Hannigrammatic
Summary: Will and Hannibal spend their first Christmas together.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas and happy holidays, dear Fannibals ♥
> 
> Not beta read! Also I changed the original summary! I wanted it to be more clear, as there's no angst or heartbreak in this story, as the original one would imply! 
> 
> Hope you all have a lovely day!!!

Will sniffs curiously at the air, the bathroom door swinging shut behind him. His nose leads him to the den, where he stops mid-stride and stares.

“Would you mind giving me a hand?” Hannibal asks around the branches of the _humongous_ pine tree.

A space has been cleared in the corner, and an old sheet placed on the floor. After blinking a few times, Will strides quickly forward and assists Hannibal in setting the tree up into a sturdy stand. After, they both take a step away and regard the conifer.

“Nice,” Will says lamely, and then, “How did you get this here?”

They didn’t own a truck, and Will knows Hannibal wouldn’t have strapped it to the roof of his fancy navy blue Bentley. 

“I carried it,” Hannibal states. He appears unconcerned. “Would you like some tea?”

Hannibal is wearing a thick black coat, and a pair of sleek matching pants tucked into leather winter boots. While they have yet to see snow, they are both prepared regardless. Still, Will is having a hard time picturing Hannibal trudging into the woods in the chill December air, hefting an axe against his shoulder as he seeks out the perfect tree to decorate their home. 

He’s also covered in pine needles, and another inhale floods Will’s nose with a strong, comforting scent: of Christmas.

“Sure.”

\----

Tea is accompanied by heated home-made pastries, and a flood of warmth as Hannibal stokes the fire in the wood stove. He’s changed into a soft red sweater and black sweatpants, as casual as Will has ever seen him. It’s still difficult getting used to living with the man, adjusting to the domesticity settling between them. 

It doesn’t escape Will that it will be their first Christmas spent together; a fact that should scare him more than it excites him, he figures.

Instead, he feels content, if daily shocked by the sides of Hannibal he hasn’t seen before. The tired, yawning side, the grumpy not-a-morning-person side, the irritated side that most often manifested in the older man huffing a lot and washing the dishes with loud, purposeful clinks. Those times, Will knew he had done something wrong, though it was infinitely impossible to figure just what.

He can’t help likening them to a married couple, existing in tandem, with the very rare argument. So, not an old couple, at least? There is no way Will would say they were a healthy one, were they actually together. They were something, certainly.

“What are you thinking about?” Hannibal’s voice, accent low and smooth, vibrates Will’s eardrums and brain pleasantly.

Looking up, Will cracks half a smile at the honey-brown eyes glittering at him.

“We don’t have any decorations for the tree,” Will muses.

It’s definitely not what he was thinking about, but it will do.

“The truth,” a small stretch, Hannibal rotating one shoulder as he eases back in his chair.

Will takes a sip of coffee and pretends he’s not admiring the muscles beneath the man’s clothes as they shift. He’s also not looking at the warmth in the man’s cheeks, dusting over his nose and the scar on the bridge of it. And definitely not wondering if Hannibal is still a bit cold from his adventure outside (and how he could possibly remedy that.)

“Perhaps we ought to drive into town, then,” Hannibal continues. 

“Can’t handle that by yourself, but you can haul a tree home?” the younger man jokes, hiding his smile behind a sip of cooling tea.

Hannibal raises a single pale brow.

“Or maybe I wish for you to accompany me,” he counters.

Will chuckles, shrugging a shoulder as he says, once more; “Sure.”

\----

The small town miles away is almost cute, picturesque in a postcard way. Will imagines it wish snow and figures it will be beautiful. Hannibal surprisingly doesn’t bother changing before they leave, merely pulling on his jacket and stepping into his stylish leather boots. For a moment, the younger man wants to pull a hat over his neat hair, just for the hell of it -instead, he pulls it over his own curls, and then scratches at his growing beard.

“You should shave that,” Hannibal comments as he drives.

Will chuckles. It’s a conversation they’ve had before, as the stubble on his face grew thicker and darker.

“I like it,” he says. “It’ll stop being itchy.”

“So you say,” maroon eyes glance at him briefly. “You know you don’t need to hide your scars, Will.”

A chill that has nothing to do with the weather suffuses Will’s body. He turns away and watches the trees pass by as they drive, and the topic is dropped; or, rather, studiously ignored. He knows that Hannibal is right, however.

They arrive at tiny shop full of odds and ends. The bell above the door rings as Hannibal opens it and holds it for Will, who ducks his head and smiles stiffly. Tension pulls his body tight for a while as they browse the section full of bright colors and shining baubles. Slowly, it ebbs away as they quietly discuss what would look good on their huge pine tree. Will talks about how he used to string popcorn up on their tree as a kid, and laughs at Hannibal’s raised brow.

“I want this one,” Will picks up a decoration gingerly.

It’s in the shape of a golden dog, with a red bow tied around its neck. The painting on it is sloppy, and it honestly looks a little ridiculous. It reminds him of Winston’s lopsided doggy smile, and he smiles sadly.

Hannibal’s had brushes the small of Will’s back briefly, almost hesitantly. It still causes Will to jump slightly, surprised not only at the contact, but at how his body responds, filling with comfort and a giddiness that makes him smile over at his companion. He bumps their shoulders together and then walks further down the small aisle.

When they finish, they leave with a sizeable paper bag and return to the Bentley. The drive home is silent and comfortable, and when they return home, they begin to decorate the tree. Will takes his time, wrapping mismatching tinsel around the branches. The lights they string up have several burnt bulbs.

“Looks a little roughed up,” Will says, smiling. 

“It’s atrocious,” Hannibal frowns.

Will laughs loudly, face turning red at how adorable the man is, standing and studying the tree with disappointment. He steps away to pick up his glass of whiskey, knocking the rest of it back and swallowing with satisfaction. 

“It’s not too late to pick up some popcorn,” Will says.

“No thank you,” a nose turns up as Hannibal leaves the den altogether, laughter following him as Will takes a seat.

The older man returns with a plate of cookies and two tall glasses of milk. They sit down next to each other on the couch in front of an open fire. Will feels warm inside and out, and they share a companionable silence.

“What were you thinking about earlier, Will?” Hannibal asks eventually.

An expression crosses the man’s features that Will cannot read. He tilts his head and narrows his eyes at Hannibal, knowing immediately that he’s referencing earlier. Still, it’s not easy to tell the man the truth, no matter how much he wants to.

“That it was strange, how we live together now,” he starts. “Exist together. It feels so easy.”

“I agree with that,” Hannibal glances at him, brow raised once more. “I confess I thought it would be more difficult.”

“Yeah,” Will looks away and sniffs. Pine fills his nostrils, and he smiles slightly. “I guess we don’t exactly have a healthy foundation for this- whatever it is.”

Hannibal doesn’t respond for a very long time. And when he does, it isn’t with words. He sets his head on Will’s thigh, over the younger man’s own. Will only just manages not to jump, blue eyes widening as he locks them with Hannibal’s own.

“We can change that,” Hannibal murmurs.

Will’s heart skips a bit. A slight sheen of sweat is quick to wet his hairline and the back of his neck. He knows his hand must quickly become clammy as well, and still Hannibal entangles their fingers together.

“Yeah,” Will forces himself to say, voice hoarse. “We can.”

The huge Christmas tree presides over them both, looming in all it’s questionable decoration. As they share this intimate moment, another bulb flickers and then burns out. Will doesn’t look away from the man sitting next to him as he moves closer, pulse racing. Maybe he has been stuck in his own mind, too selfish to consider Hannibal’s thoughts on their new life together. Maybe he just can’t believe he’s about to kiss the man.

Their lips meet in a chaste kiss, lingering as they both sigh into the other’s mouth.

Will feels his entire face heat as he pulls away and forces himself not to look away from Hannibal’s intense gaze.

“Merry Christmas,” Will whispers.

A smile lights up the man’s face, genuine and open, unlike anything Will has ever seen before. 

Maybe this is the best Christmas ever.

\----

“How did you know I wasn’t actually thinking about decorations earlier?” Will asks later, quizzically.

Hannibal smirks, saying; “Your face was red. It was quite adorable.”

“Ugh,” Will rolls his eyes.

Hannibal chuckles and pulls him close, arms wrapping tightly around him.

“Merry Christmas,” Hannibal returns.

Will decides there is no maybe, after all -this _is_ the best Christmas ever.


End file.
